


parisian surprises

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [171]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt and Hermann visit Paris.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [171]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	parisian surprises

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt: “You’re staring,” Hermann says, a confused little smile tugging at his lips, and Newt comes back to himself. “You’re nice to look at,” Newt counters with a smirk, and Hermann rolls his eyes."

It’s Paris. 2028. Winter, for what it matters. Newt is currently resisting the urge to go out and dangle his legs off over the edge of the balcony—only because he knows Hermann, three feet to his right, will yell at him for it. 

He gives the balcony doors a longing look. Hermann catches him, and sighs. “It’s below zero outside,” he points out, “you’ll catch your death out there.”

Hermann squints at him; hands hovering over the keyboard for a moment before he resumes typing. “That’s not how illnesses work,” is all he says. Then, a moment later, “Will you look at this?”

“What, the great Hermann Gottlieb wants a second opinion?” Newt teases; but it’s soft and without bite, and he hops off of the edge of the bed and makes his way over to the desk, peering over Hermann’s shoulder.

“This line, here.” Hermann highlights it.

Newt hums. “‘S good,” he says, “don’t get me wrong, man, but it’s a little…stiff? I mean, it sounds like you’re from a regency novel. Not sure how much the math department head is going to like it. Plus, the rest of it’s more laid back, so it sorta sticks out.”

Hermann’s lips twist, and he sighs again. “You’re probably right,” he admits. “I haven’t any idea how to resolve it, though. I’ve been staring at the same sentence for the last fifteen minutes, and—”

“Let me help,” Newt interrupts. 

The other twists around in his chair; giving Newt a surprised look. “You’d do that?”

“Duh. Now scoot, I can’t get at the keyboard like this.”

Hermann does as asked without protest; and Newt considers the sentence for a few seconds before he backspaces rapidly and retypes it. “There,” he says, “now it’s early twentieth century at least.”

“Shut up,” Hermann grumbles; but Newt can see the set of his lips has softened. He moves his chair back over, inspecting Newt’s work. “I…suppose it is marginally better,” he admits, and Newt hides a grin.

He’s just about to respond— _I strive to be_ marginally _better_ —when his phone rings. “Who the hell is calling me at eight in the morning on a Saturday?” he groans, and digs through the closet; finding the phone in the pocket of his jacket. He answers it. “Newt speaking, how can I help you?”

“Doctor Geiszler?” The voice is slightly tinny.

“That’s me, yeah, what’s up?” He runs through a mental catalogue, trying to figure out who it could be—

“We’re just calling to confirm your seven o’clock reservation at _Le Ciel de Paris,_ ” the voice on the other end says; still horrifically tinny. Newt winces slightly.

“Oh!” he says, a moment later. “Right, yeah, okay—yep. Yeah. Yeah, we’ll be there. Thanks.”

“Good day,” the voice says, and the call ends.

Hermann looks up from the laptop. “Who was that?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, grinning, “just a little surprise for later.”

Hermann sighs deeply. “Alright, then, keep your secrets.”

“Hey! That’s my line!” Newt protests. “Tolkein is my thing, dude. You’re supposed to be, like, quoting, I dunno, Descartes or Turing or something.”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “I don’t recall ever agreeing to that.”

“Okay, maybe not out _loud,_ but come _on,_ you have to admit that it fits.”

“Whatever you say, Newton.”

The rest of the day seems to drag by at a snail’s pace; they visit four different tourist destinations—minus the Eiffel tower, which they visited on Friday—and two museums, and yet, when Newt checks the time, it’s only three in the afternoon. He has to bite back a slight grumble.

Hermann, thank god, doesn’t notice; too caught up in admiring the paintings. This particular one’s entitled “Landscape Near Rhenen”, and has some dude playing what might be a flute, and some cattle in the background who look somewhat annoyed by it.

“Look at the _realism,_ ” Hermann says. “So often, artists forget to maintain it beyond their human subjects—but look! The cows…they look as if they might jump out of the frame and begin searching for somewhere to graze.”

“They’re very good cows,” Newt agrees placidly. “I think they’re kinda miffed by the dude, though.”

Hermann scoffs. “They’re cows,” he says, “I’m not sure that they particularly care what he’s playing.”

“What, are you saying cows can’t appreciate music, now?”

Hermann sputters. “I was _not…_ ”

They fall into an easy, lighthearted bickering; and suddenly, before Newt knows it, it’s six-thirty. “Hermann,” he says, putting a hand on the other’s arm, “there’s somewhere I want to take you.”

“Oh?” Hermann asks, interest piqued; and Newt grins.

“C’mon,” he says, “let’s catch a taxi.”

They manage to grab a taxi outside of the museum after standing for a few minutes; and Newt holds the door open for Hermann, because he can, in fact, be a gentleman sometimes. Hermann quirks a brow at the action but doesn’t question it; just holds his cane in one hand and gets in.

Newt slides into the seat beside him and gives the driver the address. 

“I suppose asking where we’re going is out of the question?” Hermann says.

Newt smiles at him. “It’s a surprise,” he says. “You’ll see pretty soon, anyway.”

With the traffic, they manage to get there just in time, and as the waiter takes them to their table, Newt reaches out to take Hermann’s hand, twining their fingers together.

As they sit down, their hands remain linked, and Newt finds himself admiring Hermann, lit softly in the overhead light.

“You’re staring,” Hermann says, a confused little smile tugging at his lips, and Newt comes back to himself. 

“You’re nice to look at,” Newt counters with a smirk, and Hermann rolls his eyes. 

“You’re a flatterer,” he says; but he squeezes Newt’s hand.

“Happy anniversary, Herms,” Newt says; the smirk turning into a genuine smile.

“Oh!” Hermann exclaims; realisation dawning on him. “Goodness…three years.”

“Three years,” Newt agrees; heart nearly bursting at the seams; and he squeezes Hermann’s hand back.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
